What happens when a friendship has run its course? When you wake up one morning to find you can no longer count on the comfort of routine? And how will that affect the surrounding community? These are the questions at the heart of Martin McDonagh’s tragicomedy, The Banshees of Inisherin.
Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell star in THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN — Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures
Set against the backdrop of the Irish Civil War raging on the mainland, McDonagh tells a quieter, more insulated story of a different type of civil war. A battle of wills between two old friends. For Pádraic Súilleabháin (Colin Farrell), it is a day like any other, until it isn’t. He goes about his typical routine, stopping by Colm Doherty’s (Brendan Gleeson) place on his way to the pub for a pint. But though he pounds at the window and yells for Colm, Pádraic’s friend refuses to even turn around and look at him. “Have you been rowing?” everyone wants to know.
The real explanation for Colm’s sudden cold shoulder is much harder to comprehend. “I just don’t like ya no more,” he says to a perplexed Pádraic, who insists, “But ya do like me!” These early moments, and many that follow are funny in that awkward sort of way. As Pádraic tries in vain to understand, and even convinces himself this is all just a big joke, we can’t help but chuckle hopefully alongside him. Right from the beginning, Colin Farrell pulls us in and we can’t help but like Pádraic, even if Colm doesn’t.
It is not hyperbole to say this is some of the finest work Farrell has ever done. His charming goofiness slowly gives way to pain and eventually bitterness as reality sets in. It is hard not to be on Pádraic’s side in this fight, because Farrell imbues him with such likeability that his slide into cruelty and menace almost goes unnoticed at first. Once fully formed, Farrell is so committed to his self-justification that the fallout, though inevitable, feels all the more tragic.
Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures
On the other side, Colm is played to curmudgeonly perfection by Brendan Gleeson. He doesn’t want to fight with Pádraic. Instead, he has reached a moment of clarity, realizing he has far fewer years ahead of him than behind him and he burns with the desire to create something that will live after he is gone. Gleeson plays Colm with the kind of grumpy exterior that is so familiar to many of his best-known characters. But what sets Colm apart — and what makes Gleeson such a talented performer — are in the subtle ways he ensures us that Colm isn’t a villain.
Colm has outgrown a friendship that probably started out of convenience and proximity. It is a small island, after all. Everyone knows everyone and Pádraic was just there. Where one friend is content with how things have always been, the other desires something more. The two are simply not compatible anymore. It happens to everyone. But in such a small community, the ripple effects are much stronger and farther reaching.
Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures
Two of Inisherin’s most impacted sideliners are Pádraic’s sister Siobhan (Kerry Condon) and Dominic (Barry Keoghan). In some ways, they are versions of Colm and Pádraic. Siobhan wants more from life than Inisherin can give her and she is willing to look beyond their cliffs to find it. Dominic, meanwhile, is simple and his conversation is rarely stimulating. Without ever having to say it outright, Pádraic’s blooming friendship with Dominic paints a picture of how and why his friendship with Colm began in the first place.
Condon is luminous as Siobhan, the one bright spot on a perpetually overcast story. Condon breathes into Siobhan an optimism and a hope that perpetually overcast Inisherin needs. As she contemplates leaving for new opportunities, it becomes increasingly clear what a loss that would be to the island. Keoghan, for his part, gives a grounded sort of tragedy to Dominic. The boy has been abused by his police constable father (Gary Lydon) and is tolerated more than liked. Some actors might be tempted to overplay Dominic’s quirks and tics. Keoghan grounds this damaged soul with a fallible but kind heart.
The Banshees of Inisherin is a rich character study made richer by a lush, verdant Irish landscape. From windswept hillsides to firelit interiors, DP Ben Davis captures the beauty of the place and the melancholy of its people. Through his photography, he conveys the imbalance of such a beautiful, open, uncrowded place feeling so small and isolated. Carter Burwell punctuates these images with a mournful score.
McDonagh’s screenplay says so much without ever wasting words. It grips the viewer, pulls us into a familiar yet unexplored reality: the ending of a friendship. It is also a metaphor for the civil war raging just a few miles across the channel, and for the far-reaching impact such large and small conflicts have on us as communities and as individuals. Funny, heart-breaking, and painfully real, The Banshees of Inisherin offers an emotional depth that has become all too rare in modern cinema. It is exquisite.